South London based artist Sam Kerridge, uses the city as both his canvas and his inspiration. In his work, spires lean into radio towers, the colours of the tube lines bounce between familiar landmarks and the city is transformed into something new.

Sam has coined the term ‘spirestars’ to describe the semi abstracted artworks he creates. We chatted with Sam about the walks with his father that first got him hooked on architectural detail, the Thames motif that ties his London pieces together, and what his art practice means to him.

When did you develop an art practice? How did that come about? 

Drawing has always been my favourite pastime, but I started drawing my 'spirestars' about 12 years ago. It was probably no coincidence that I solidified a clear art style while my dad was in the late stages of his battle with cancer. It became an essential tool to express myself during that time.

Your images feel both recognisably urban and strangely surreal. How do you balance the real architecture you observe with the images you create from it?

It's always a juggling act, playing with recognisable landmarks but trying to make them feel exciting and slightly distorted at the same time. Assembling each artwork is kind of like playing with a Rubik's Cube or LeMarchand's Box until all the pieces fit into place and feel right. I think of them as a totem or sculptural memory of a place.

You deconstruct and reassemble architectural forms in your work, what is it about breaking buildings apart that allows you to see the city differently? 

My dad used to take me on walks and point out interesting architectural details or new buildings so I've always found building and demolition sites fascinating. The initial framework and foundations, are often more dynamic than the finished building. With demolished buildings, you see decorated spaces exposed from different eras or trends, and living spaces that have been long abandoned or hidden away. By rearranging cityscapes in my artwork, I can play with scale and time.

How has living and working in South London shaped your visual language? Do you find particular things keep finding their way into your work?

I lived in London Bridge as a little kid, and my parents would often walk along the river. The Thames Motif is the part that ties together my London 'spirestar'. London has changed so dramatically over time, it's compelling. Watching the power station become Tate Modern, and seeing places like my old local nature reserve near Tower Bridge transformed first into the Mayor's Office and now into something new again. It shapes my understanding of the city as a living organism.

If you could speak to your younger self, just before you had properly embarked on your creative journey, what would you tell them?

Believe in yourself and trust your own creative vision

There is a strong sense of rhythm and geometry in your work, how did this come about?

I've always loved electronic music, from the Art of Noise to Ital Tek, so maybe that's echoed in my artwork. I also use repeat patterns and crystal rock formations for reference. I think the rhythm and patterns of nature are echoed in cities, as they are a natural byproduct of human life.

I want to bring architecture and urban spaces to life in my artwork, and capture the way it really feels; not static.

Your colour choices feel electric and intentional and often symbolic of the city. Why do you make the colour choices you do?

I try to keep the colour schemes quite simple and sparing, and I want the few colours I use to have a lot of impact. I reference the Embankment tube artwork by Robert Denny, and the colours are based on the tube line map colours.

These colours are full of movement and energy and they work as a way to draw the eye around the clusters of buildings.

Is there a piece you created that changed you in the process of making it?

I think the process of making artwork is always like having a conversation with yourself. I have made pieces that evolve into something quite different. The first 'spirestar' I made into a screenprint had evolved from other draft versions that were quite different. I initially picked the gothic spires and radio towers out of visual preference and the contrast of solid stone and metal framework. It wasn't till I looked back at it again that I could see the symbolism of spiritual and technological communication were there. It proved to me the power of the subconscious.

Has someone ever approached your work in a way that surprised or deeply moved you?

A few years ago, I discovered on Instagram that someone had got a massive tattoo on their back of my London spirestar. They had become attached to the artwork after walking past a piece I had painted in London Bridge on their way to work. It was amazing to find out someone liked it enough to get it permanently on their skin.

Does the place where the work ends up affect how you approach the art making?

I always have to take into account how the artwork will be made. If I'm painting some street art, it has to be done fairly quickly, so colours and details have to be limited.

Sometimes the piece I'm working on will change as I'm working on it. You have to be ready to change with the artwork.

What role does play or spontaneity have in your practice?

Spontaneity is always important, although my drawings can be quite detailed, I try not to spend too long getting hung up on perfect line making as the artwork can end up looking a static and stale.

I usually add paint spatter to my work to add movement and texture to the piece, which can be unpredictable but I usually end up liking these marks the most.

And lastly, what song captures the energy of your work? Or something you listen to when you are creating?

The individual bit of music that I associate the most with my artwork is 'Spinning away' by John Cale and Brian Eno (from the album wrong way up), some of the lyrics feel like they fit the process of making my artwork.

'Up on a hill, as the day dissolves
With my pencil turning moments into line'